


The Knight

by greeneyedfeelsmonster



Series: Agents of Medieval Fantasy [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Medieval AU, No i do not, You Have Been Warned, also this au will most likely get huge and ridiculous, ask me if i care, everyone is bi, mockingnerd, otp: she's amazing, that is the best ship name ever and you cannot convince me otherwise, the answer is no, yes that is my tumblr tag for them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeneyedfeelsmonster/pseuds/greeneyedfeelsmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After every bout, the knight had raised a clenched fist to his heart and bowed his head, humbly, in Jemma's direction, as though dedicating the win. Jemma's heart gave an odd little stutter every time he did it, and now, under the stranger's look--steady, she thinks, though all she can see of his eyes beneath the lowered visor is a flash of gray--her pulse quickens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Knight

**Author's Note:**

> A friend and I were talking about all the lovely Mockingnerd AU possibilities and I got a little carried away in one of my responses, hence this ficcup sort of starting at the end.
> 
> I own none of these characters, of course.

"If you do not wish to take your prize, Sir Knight, what is it you desire?"

"A favor, my lord, if it is not too bold to ask," says the knight.

"Your deeds this day bespeak a bold and gracious spirit," says the king. "Thus boldness is fitting. Speak."

"I seek a kiss--" he turns to Jemma and bows "--though only if her Highness is willing."

At this there's a stir among the onlookers and the other knights. How can an unknown personage ask such a thing? And from their lady, no less, who has never been aught but proper?

"Bold indeed!" says the king, laughing. "What say you, Princess?"

After every bout, the knight had raised a clenched fist to his heart and bowed his head, humbly, in Jemma's direction, as though dedicating the win. Jemma's heart gave an odd little stutter every time he did it, and now, under the stranger's look--steady, she thinks, though all she can see of his eyes beneath the lowered visor is a flash of gray--her pulse quickens. She inclines her head.

"Am I to look upon the face of my champion, or shall I plant the prize atop your helm?" she says, a little breathless, not bothering to mask her curiosity.

The knight removes his gauntlets, revealing surprisingly slender hands, and tucking them into his belt he leans over to remove his helm and set it on the ground. Jemma stares as golden hair tumbles out around the knight's shoulders, and an amused smile plays across the queen's face as the stranger slowly straightens up and lifts... _her_... face to the princess.

Oh. _Oh._ Jemma's breath catches. _She's amazing._

"Are you still willing, lady?" asks the knight in a voice pitched so only those on the royal platform can hear it clearly.

Caught in the woman's gaze, Jemma feels her breath hitch. "Willing, yes," she breathes, "And eager."

A heart-stopping smile spreads across the woman's face as she climbs the wooden stairs, and Jemma stands, head tilting back to meet the woman's eyes. A strong hand slips behind her neck, gently pulling her forward. Jemma's eyes widen for an instant, then flutter closed as their lips meet. The woman begins to raise her head, leaving the kiss nothing but the most chaste of touches, but Jemma stands on tiptoe, parting her lips in invitation. She can feel the stranger smile before slipping her tongue between her teeth, and if not for the steadying hand that somehow finds its way to the small of her back, she would fall over--though she wouldn't care if she did.

After far too short a time, the stranger pulls away. She stares into her eyes, not quite smiling, and Jemma feels as though she could spin off the edge of the world and not even notice. Turning, the stranger bows to the king and queen; then, head held high, she descends the stairs and strides back to her horse, grabbing the reins and mounting in a fluid motion.

"Wait!" calls Jemma, regaining some of her wits. "At least tell me your name!"

Leather creaks as the stranger stands in her saddle, turning, and raises a hand, palm open this time, to her heart. "My true name is known to few," she says, bowing; "But by some I am called Mockingbird." With that she turns and spurs her horse forward, and the beat of its hooves echoes loudly in the silent arena.

As the echoes fade Jemma sinks back to her seat, wondering dizzily when she'll see this Mockingbird again. Soon, she hopes.


End file.
